A picnic by the lake
by Cass Nightingale
Summary: The Doctor surprises Thea by taking her to a lake somewhere in Switzerland . This is an alternative history short story starring Mary Shelley, Frankenstein's monster, the 17th Doctor and his relatively new companion, Thea .


The TARDIS lands at the shores of a beautiful calm lake. After several trips to far-off planets in the distant future, good old Earth feels brilliant under my feet! I never imagined I'd miss it so much. The lake looks vaguely familiar, though I can't really pin our location. If I had to guess, I'd say northern Europe, but this is just my gut feeling talking.

- Where are we, Doctor?

- Ah, Thea, I promised to show you a place you've read about, so I brought you to Switzerland. The year is 1816.

I look at the man, wondering what it is in Switzerland that I've read about. It would have to be something I've discovered recently, since I seriously doubt he'd go to my past just to check my reading history. The problem is, I mostly read science fiction and the occasional fantasy – and when I go into classics, they're almost exclusively set in Britain. Almost. As I realize where we are, a huge grin appears on my face.

- I think I ought to put on a dress then – I say and head back to the blue box. The doctor laughs and follows me to the changing room.

There I choose a long red dress with white lace along the neck and sleeves. I use a heavily decorated pin for my hair and put a warm cream mantle over my shoulders. When I walk out of the TARDIS the Doctor's already waiting for me, wearing an impeccable white high collar shirt and green tailcoat. I think we're both far too formally dressed for a casual walk around the lake but it'll have to do. He offers me his hand, and we start walking. For a while we don't say anything – I'm too overwhelmed by his simple, perfect gesture.

- So are we going to see Villa Diodati then? – I ask as we stop to rest for a while.

- We can if you want. In fact, I took the liberty of arranging our staying there for the night, under the name of Thea Smith and her humble husband, Dr John Smith.

- Very self-confident, aren't we now, Doctor? What makes you so sure I'd agree to being your wife? – I tease, laying my head on his shoulder.

- You agreed to travel through space and time with me, Thea – he answers, seriously. But in a moment he's grinning again – surely you're not afraid of a little acting?

- You wish! – I say haughtily and we both laugh.

An hour or so later we're in front of the grand villa. She's a splendid thing with her solid, simple and yet beautiful architecture. The view is stunning and I take my time to look around. Suddenly, I feel the Doctor's gentle tap on my shoulder and as I turn around, I almost faint.

In front of me there is a group of five – two women and three men, among which some of the most influential writers of their time. I'm out of words. The Doctor, on the other hand, greets everyone enthusiastically, and introduces us. Charming as ever, he is quick to make friends and to my surprise, he actually already knows one of the party, a dark-haired young man with thick eyebrows.

- Polidori! I've not seen you in ages, how are you? Still practicing?

- Yes, Smith, still in business. I work for Lord Byron now, and I've been doing some writing lately.

- John and I started our medical training – the Doctor explains to me, and I nod, pretending all of this makes sense. I'm still stunned.

- Well if you're both called John, and are both doctors, how are we supposed to differentiate between you? – a woman I recognize to be Clair Clairmont asks jokingly.

- Call him John, and me – the Doctor – my "husband" suggests and I laugh a little in my head.

As we head towards the house, I'm introduced to the other three. Lord George Byron, the oldest from the group, engages me in a friendly conversation while the Doctor and John Polidori are catching up. Refusing to grasp the grandness of my surroundings, I soon stop even trying to think of them as great writers and see a group of carefree young people.

I can see Clair throwing daggers with her eyes at me, so I turn my attention to the young couple walking behind us, leaving Byron to deal with his ex. "Some things never change", I say to myself. Percy Shelley and his soon to be wife Mary are almost inappropriately cuddly. We exchange some pleasantries and I make note that the young woman introduces herself by the surname of Shelley, even though she has no legal reason to do so… yet. Percy seems to find this amusing.

Back in the house we are shown to our room, which is very cozy. There's a big stone fireplace, a wardrobe and a couple of huge chairs with a coffee table next to them. We're to share a double bed that could easily accommodate at least two more people. Travelling with the Doctor sometimes means sleeping whenever and wherever you can, and I'm not the type to shy away from sharing a bed, especially if it's as nice as this one. And even though the Doctor knows this, he still asks:

- So, Mrs Smith, am I to sleep on the floor or will you be so kind and let me share the bed of my beloved wife?

- Oh don't be ridiculous – I answer, wondering why he's being so playful lately.

The same evening all of us dine together. By the Doctor's request, our main dish is traditionally prepared fish, while the desert is a heavy apple pie with thick custard. He's done this several times since I've started travelling with him – he tries to introduce the local variation of fish fingers and custard among prominent writers, thinkers and people in general wherever we go. It rarely goes well but our current company is at least eager to try.

Percy and John Polidori end up playing with the food like little children. Mary grows red with embarrassment of her lover's childishness but seeing that the Doctor also takes part, relaxes a little. Obviously unhappy, Byron excuses himself and Claire follows shortly after. Feeling unusually brave, probably due to the wine consumed over our meal, I start up a conversation with Mary Shelley.

- So how did you and Mr Shelley meet then? – I ask.

- Oh, it was in the late spring of 1814. I can't believe it's been four years now! We used to meet secretly in the cemetery where my mother was buried, it was so romantic… - and she drifts off to tell me about one too many of their meetings. Tired of the long day, I very soon stop paying attention and her question catches me by surprise:

- And how did you and the Doctor come to know each other?

- We met in Oxford, actually – I answer without realizing that I'm about to be a bit too honest. Halfway through the sentence I collect myself. What I end up saying is not a lie but it's not that revealing either. – He was travelling, and offered to take me along with him. I couldn't really say no and here we are now, still travelling.

- Poor you, you must want to settle down, and the road is no place to raise children!

- I love travelling, and we're not… planning children yet – I say slowly. I'm not entirely sure how this will go but Mary Shelley doesn't bat an eye and changes the subject. She tells me that their group has taken into writing short stories lately and I listen politely, trying not to give away too much with my knowledge.

By the end of the meal she has insisted that the Doctor and I accompany the rest in their writing discussion the following evening. This is a dream come true for me and I almost jump off my chair in my excitement.

We take our leave shortly after, and head to the bedroom. When we're finally alone I'm so overwhelmed by the day's events that I hug the Doctor tightly around the waist, bury my head in his chest and whisper:

- Thank you!

- You poor thing, how did you turn so emotional all of a sudden? – he laughs but I can tell he's very pleased with himself. – We've only had a meal and you look like you've had the adventure of a lifetime!

I don't find the right words to answer and just silently go to bed. He follows shortly after.


End file.
